


Daryl Dixon Imangine: Scars

by EverRoseKillings



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverRoseKillings/pseuds/EverRoseKillings
Summary: Imagine seeing Daryl’s scars for the first time...





	Daryl Dixon Imangine: Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mentions of parental abuse and Swearing

It has been only 3 months since Daryl Dixon found you hunkered down and starving in an abandoned cabin in the woods of Georgia. You remember that day very clearly. That was the day you thought you were going to finally die. You had nothing left to live for. Your friends and family were long dead. Any group that took you in met similar fates not long after you got settled with them. It had almost been two months since you had been with a group and the few morsels of food you managed to find just wasn't cutting it. The pain of hunger was becoming unbearable and the pain of the loss of everyone you loved was even more so. So, the thought of your own death was comforting in a way. You had found the cabin and made camp there for the night. Your body was weak and you knew that this was probably the last time you would see the world you knew, or so you thought. The crunching of the fallen leaves and sticks made you stir and wake just enough to realize that there was someone or something outside the cabin. The cabin door opened slowly with a creak. A dark figure stood in the door way and you assumed that it was one of the dead ones. Images flashed in your head of the dead ones pale grey skin and nashing teeth. The same teeth that sunk into your loved ones flesh. You didn't have the strength to fight, so you just lay there awaiting your fate. You could hear the figures footstep growing closer to you, stopping only inches away from your body. A sudden bright light cut through the darkness making you squint your eyes. 

"Hey." A deep, gruff male voice said. His voice was laced with a thick southern accent. The sound of it made a shiver run down your spine. 

You use the last bit of your energy to look at him. The features of his face were hard to make out due to the blinding light of the flashlight he held. 

"You look like shit." He said setting his stuff to the side. 

"Thanks." You managed to say with a bit of sarcasm. 

"I have a group. Wanna come with me?" He asked. 

"Yes, but I don't think I can walk." You breathed.

"We can worry 'bout that later. I have a few questions. How many Walkers have you killed?"

"To many to count." You whispered. 

"How many people have you killed?" 

"Three." 

He paused before continuing. "Why?" 

"Because they asked me to." You squeaked. The memories of your mother, sister, and best friend begging for you to end their life flooded your memory making tears spill on to your hallow cheeks. 

"It's alright. We'll leave in the morning." He said sitting next to you. "My name is Daryl." 

"I'm Y/N." 

Your new found friend Daryl sat by and watched over you through the night allowing you to finally get a good night sleep. His gaze never left the rickety wooden cabin door until the sun was just about at its highest position in the sky. He got up quietly as to not wake you and packed the few things you had into your ragged makeshift backpack and slung it over his shoulder before gathering his own things. You awoke to Daryl carefully gathering you in his arms. He picked up your slender frame with ease. You didn't protest, you didn't have the strength to. Your rested your head on his shoulder as he walked quickly and easily through the woods. You couldn't help but notice the crossbow slung across his back. He was the first archer you have met since the world went to shit.

He brought you back to a place he called Alexandria.  
You could make out a bit of distinct chatter between him and another person that sounded like a woman before the squeak of what sounded like a metal gate opening sounded. Daryl’s pace quickened and the next thing you know you were being laid on a soft surface and covered with a heavy blanket. A cool hand finds your forehead, gently brushing your hair to the side. 

"Don't worry, he will be back with our doctor. I'm Maggie." Said the woman. Her eyes were soft and a gentle smile spread across her lips. 

Daryl returned with the doctor, who gave you a look over, treated your wounds, and put you on bed rest for the next few weeks but said that you could walk around for short periods with supervision. Daryl offered to have you stay with him for that duration. You kind of felt bad for Daryl having to put up with your snarky attitude for those few weeks. But eventually he dished it right back, you would even dare to say that he would sometimes flirt with you. His hand would linger on yours a few seconds longer than necessary, his eyes would soften as soon as he saw you, he'd bring you food, and help you walk when you couldn't stand laying there any longer.  

Flash forward 6 months later and you are still sharing a house with Daryl in Alexandria, the place you are now proud to call home. The leader Rick was not sure about your arrival at first and told Daryl that you are his responsibility. You have since changed his mind and actually are good friends. 

At first living with Daryl was a odd. You have never lived with a man before but Daryl is hardly there since he volunteers to go on runs when ever he can. He also likes to just wonder off on his own to hunt or do whatever Daryl likes to do and he will be gone for 1 to 2 days at a time, sometimes longer depending on what the group needed. Even when he is home he hardly speaks a word to you or anyone for that matter. Because of this you don't really know much about Daryl. You know a few facts about Daryl, thanks to his late night drinking sessions that you sometimes join in on. Drunk Daryl is much more willing to tell funny and embarrassing stories about him and his now deceased older brother Merle. He also is much more willing to tell the stories that aren't so funny. One time he told you about his mother and how she died in a house fire. You remember thinking to yourself that Daryl must of had a rough start in life by the way his stories sound. 

Even though Daryl hardly spoke, you two are actually very good friends. You would even go as far as to say that he is your best friend. The times you do speak are full of joke and sarcastic remarks. You even got him to smile once. Not many people can say that. Daryl is also your go to drinking buddy. That man knows how to drink. You aren't a fan of wine or anything like that, whiskey is a different story. So when Daryl brings home a bottle of Jack Daniels or Fireball, you are right there to help him polish off the bottle. You won't lie that sometimes things got a little heated between you two when the booze was going down a little too easily but you never slept together. You haven't even seen him shirtless. 

Today, has been just like any other day. Daryl is off on a run with a small group of others and you are sitting in your living with a book that Daryl brought back for you from a run. You are so focused on your book that you fail to notice the sun slipping behind the trees, allowing the darkness of night consume the sky. 

Your attention is taken away from the book by Daryl walking through the door. He is covered with what you assume to be blood and dirt. Your eyes widen at the sight and you get up quickly to see if he is okay, checking him over for any visible wounds. 

"I'm fine." He says walking past you, dropping his bag and setting his equally bloody crossbow on the kitchen table. "Ran into a herd on the way back." 

"Did everyone make it back?" You ask sincerely concerned about the others well being. 

"Yeah. I need a fuckin' shower." He says stretching out a sore muscle in his shoulder.

You watch in concern as Daryl makes his way up the stairs to the bathroom on the second floor. He's hidden injuries from you before and you want to make sure he makes it up the stairs okay. Once he disappears from view and you hear the water of the shower turn on, you return to your book. 

Your concern is making it hard for you to concentrate and after a while you give up and go to check on Daryl. As you walk up the stairs you notice that the water has been turned off but there was no rustling or noise of any sort which only made your concern grow. You knock on the door and call out to Daryl.

"Daryl? Everything okay?" 

No response.

You try the door handle to find it has not been locked. Slowly, you open the door just enough for you to peak inside. Daryl is standing just with in view with his back turned towards you, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. What you see shocked you. Daryl back is riddles with dark purple scars. You put a hand over your mouth to silence what would have been an audible gasp and close the door slowly, making sure that Daryl wouldn't know that you saw. 

You make your way to your room and close the door behind you. So many questions are running through your head. What happened? Did someone do that to him? Should I ask about it? Should I tell him I saw? Your buzzing head makes it impossible for you to get comfortable. You toss and turn for most of the night, not getting a wink of sleep. 

The next morning you go down stairs to make coffee, one of the many wonderful things you are able to do in Alexandria. And with the night you had you needed it. You didn't even bother to change out of your pajamas or attempt to tame your hair. Coffee in hand you slump into one of the kitchen chairs. As always, Daryl is up long before you. He comes walking through the kitchen already ready for the day, crossbow in hand.

"You look like shit." He says grabbing a bottle of water from the counter. 

"Gee, thanks Daryl." You say, yawning widely. 

"Sleep alright?" He asks eyeing you. 

"No, not really." You say setting your cup down on the table and putting your head in your hands. 

"Anything you wanna talk 'bout?" 

You pause for a moment,contemplating your answer. "Nah, not really." You say staring into the steaming dark brown liquid in your cup. 

"Alright." He says, skepticism feathering the edge of his voice. He always knows when something is bothering and you are convinced that he knows you better than you know yourself. "I'm goin' on a run. I'll be back around sun down." 

You watch as Daryl turns the handle and leaves you alone in the house. The sun is now fully above the horizon signaling for you to get ready for your watch shift. Rick gave you the responsibility when you didn't really show much talent with cooking or baby sitting the kids. You are however a good shot and know your way around a rifle thanks to your father. So, the job of keeping an eye out for walkers and other potential threats suits you very well. 

To get ready you simply throw your (y/h/c) hair in a pony and change into a simple black T-shirt, jeans, and your cowboy boots. The warm Georgia air greets you as you walk outside and towards the wall surrounding Alexandria. Maggie is waiting for you when you arrive. Maggie,next to Daryl, is a very good friend of yours. She befriended you shortly after you arrived to Alexandria. She would come visit you during your recovery when Daryl had to leave on runs and bring you soup she made herself. 

"Hey." Maggie calls as you arrive. 

"Hey. How was your night?" You say. 

"Uneventful." She says resting her rifle on her hip. "How was yours?" 

"I didn't sleep very well." 

"How come?" She asks, concern thick in her voice. 

"I don't know. Just couldn't sleep I guess." You say biting your thumb nail. It was pointed out to you long ago that this is something you only do when you lie. You can't help it though. 

"Right. How about you tell me what's bothering you." Maggie says. 

You sigh in defeat. You can't lie to Maggie after all she's done for you. "Last night, I saw something I don't think I was supposed to see." 

"What did you see?" 

"I saw Daryl's scars." You say quietly.

"I didn't know that he has scars. What I do know is Daryl likes to keep to himself. Nobody really knows what happened to him or what his life was like before all of this." 

"It bothers me because I care about him Maggie. In fact I care very much about him. I think - "

"You love him." She says raising her eyebrows. 

Of course you have thought about you and Daryl being together. He did save you after all and you two just have a connection that he doesn't seem to share with anyone else, besides Carol, in the group. But Daryl is just so, Daryl. He would rather go out on a run then stay in Alexandria. He just doesn't seem like the settling down type but who can blame him? This is the apocalypse. 

"I'll leave you to it." Maggie says patting your shoulder and heading down the wall. 

You smile softly at her and tune to look into the woods scanning for any movement of walkers or other people that may be a threat to your home. The sound of Daryl's motorcycle makes you look back. Daryl is riding his bike, all dressed and ready to go for his next run. As he approaches the gate the two that you've come to know as Abraham and Rosita open them. Daryl pauses and looks up at you sending a smile and a wave in your direction. You return it and he speeds quickly out of sight. 

Your shift comes to end with the setting of the sun. Maggie once again comes to relieve you of your duty. On the walk home the familiar rumble of Daryl's  motorcycle comes with in hearing distance, making a smile spread across your lips. 

Finally, you arrive home and collapse on the couch. Your eyes lids are heavy with sleep but you don't want to go to bed with our greeting Daryl. You wait for what seems like an hour but finally his familiar footsteps sound on the porch. Yawing, you sit up to greet him. 

"Hey." He says closing the door. 

"Hey." You say resting your head on your hand. 

"Ya ain't tired yet are ya?" He asks reaching into his backpack. "The night's young." He says holding up a full, unopened bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. 

"Damn it, Dixon. You know me to well." You say getting up from the couch to snatch the bottle away from his hand but he raises it above his head at the last second. You look up at him in confusion, questioning what exactly he is going to do or say next. 

"First, you tell me what's what up with ya." He says. 

You take a step back and fold your arms across your chest. "I don't know what you mean." You lie. 

"Mmhm. I think ya do." He says bring his arm with the bottle of whiskey down and behind his back. "Ya don't get any 'til ya tell me." 

"Daryl come on let's just have a drink." You almost beg, reaching for the bottle behind his back. 

"Nah. Not 'til ya tell me." He says with a small smile. 

"This isn't funny Daryl." 

"It is a bit." He says widening his smile. "Come one Y/N tell me. Oh, I know what it is." Daryl leans in close to you and whispers. "You got your period, don't ya." 

"No!" 

"Well then tell me."

"Just drop it Daryl! Wasn't suppose to see what I did in the first place." You snap. 

Daryl's face loses his smile and his demeanor changes to that of a serious one. "What did ya see?" He asks quietly. 

You turn back towards the couch and sit making sure not to look at Daryl. Heat being to rise to your cheeks and your eyes grow wet as you begin to cry. You feel Daryl sit next next to you his added weight making you sink into the couch a bit more. Tears run down your cheeks and you wipe them away quickly so Daryl won't see. 

"I'm sorry." He says sincerely. 

"No, I'm sorry." You say with a sniff. 

"For what?" He asks. 

"For what happened to you." You say looking him square in he eye. His face remained unchanged but his eyes told a different story. One of hurt and sadness. 

"I don't know what your talkin' 'bout." He says looking away. 

"I saw your scars, Daryl." You say. 

Daryl gets up from the couch obviously becoming more and more distressed by the second. He begins to pace as his breathing grows rapid and tears flow from his eyes. This is the first time you've seen Daryl get this emotional. 

"Daryl I-" you begin to say but are quickly cut off by Daryl. 

"No! I don't wanna hear it! I've heard it all before. But no one really understands." He say pressing his palms to his temples. 

"I can try." You say quietly. "I might understand more than what you think." 

Daryl scoffs "Right. A girl like you probably had a perfect life before all this." 

"Actually, my life was far from perfect. My family did look perfect of the outside. Both of my parents had good paying jobs. We had a big house and white picket fence. But behind closed doors it was a different story. My parents hated each other but stayed together for appearances. Each night while my mother was getting drunk my father would be with me, in my room." 

You pause as the memories of your father and what he did to you come flooding back, fresh tears flooding down your cheeks. Daryl came back to sit by you and offers the bottle whiskey which you accept, taking a  two big gulps of the amber liquid before handing it back. The alcohol burns the back of your throat and leaves your stomach feeling warm. 

"My mother was to drunk to do anything and I never told her because I was scared of him. He tried to do the same to my little sister but I wouldn't let him. My little sister was only 4 when all this was happening.  It was years before my mother decided to leave him. I had just turned 20. Actually it was right as all of this went down. We went from group to group all of them being taken out soon after we would arrive. My best friends was in one of those groups and she just tagged along with us where ever we went. One day we got surrounded by walkers. We managed to escape but my mother, sister, and my best friend were bitten. They held on as long as they could but eventually they asked me to kill them. And I did. I was so hopeless that I almost gave up on life. If it hadn't been for you I would have died out there."

Daryl just sits next to you with his elbows resting on his knees. He stares blankly ahead as he chews on his thumb nail, taking in what you have just said. There is a long silence before Daryl takes a swig of the whiskey and begins to speak. 

"My Dad was a real asshole. Beat the shit outta me and Merle. For a while Merle got the lost of it. My ma was the only one that did anything' 'bout it but he would jus' knock her out and come back to wail on us. After she died and we moved it only got worse. I did what I could to not go home. I remember when I was a kid, I took off into the woods and got lost for over a week. I wiped my ass with poison oak. My ass itched somethin' fierce." 

You could help but laugh and he chuckles along with you. 

"As I got older I slept on strangers couches when ever the chance came. If I couldn't find a couch to crash on I would go sleep in a jail cell. The sheriff knew my ol' man beat on us and would let me stay for a bit at a time. I never said nothin' to him though so he couldn't do anythin' 'bout it. When Merle turned 18 he moved in with some tweaker. Then it was jus' me and my ol' man. After he left I was the only one my dad had to take out his drunken rage on. He would beat me so bad that I would black out. He would use what ever he could get his hands on. Belts, broom handles, sticks, and god know what else. He pulled a knife in me one time. That's how I got one of the scars. I don't remember how I got the others. Probably happened when I was out cold. Finally, I had enough. I grabbed the handgun from his nightstand-" 

Daryl pauses thinking about what he's going to say next. 

"Then what?" You ask urging him gently to continue. 

"I killed him." He says emotionlessly. "After that I moved in with Merle and we just kind of floated around. I went where he went and time just flew. Before we knew it all these dead pricks were walkin' around." 

"I'm sorry Daryl." 

"I'm sorry to." He says sincerely. "Guess we got more in common than I thought." 

"Guess so." You say softly. 

"Hell, enough of this emotional shit. Let's drink!" He says getting up and walking out to the kitchen to grab two glasses from the cupboard. Daryl pours a glass for you and a glass for himself. 

"Cheers!" You say holding your glass up. "To fucked up childhoods." 

Daryl laughs and clinks his glass to yours. "To fucked up childhoods."


End file.
